A Pivotal Moment Triple Shot
by Robert Modean
Summary: This was originally written as a pure angst Brennan POV one-shot, but due to some feedback/PMs requesting a 'happy ending' I relented and wrote two additional chaps. The original remains in all it's Angsty glory for the purists. Rated M for a reason.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: Unfortunately I don't own nor am I involved with the production of _Bones_, if Hart Hanson and Company are reading this - call me.

**Synopsis**: It's been weeks since Booth's birthday party and Brennan's speech, and yet things are not going well for our favorite pair. Booth and Brennan are finding it harder and harder to get along. Booth can't seem to let go of what happened in the observation room, and Brennan is getting tired of trying to fix everything herself. Is this the end of the best team in the Bureau?

_A/N: This was originally written as a pure angst Brennan POV one-shot. I received some feedback and not a few PMs that appreciated the depth of the angst but also clamored for a satisfactory resolution. Normally I let the story stand or fall as it's written but in this one case I believe the Angst Monkey in my closet may be tolerant enough for me to 're-imagine' this story with a less bleak ending. Of course this will now be a triple shot, and the original story shall remain in it's entirety since I find that ending; tragic, ambiguous, utterly bereft of hope as it is, to be most appropriate for the original concept. Sometimes we can't fix things just because we want to, sometimes there are no happy endings._

_A/N Addendum: Adult language and situations apply._

**A Pivotal Moment - Things Better Left Unsaid**

* * *

I don't know what started this fight, I know it was something I said but it's become difficult to tell what it is that I say that will set him off these days. It's been a month since his birthday and every day I can feel us drifting further apart. It's as if there is something off about us and I don't know what it is, but somehow I know it is my fault. As the fight gathers momentum I am given pause to think about what has gone wrong and as always I come back to Jared and that moment outside the interrogation room. Why didn't I just tell him no, no I don't think you're a loser? Why did I hesitate? Why did I lapse into squint speak when he pushed me to reply?

Booth's ranting has stopped temporarily, whether he's done arguing right now or just tired of the current argument I don't know. I do know that even if this particular episode is over it doesn't matter because another one will soon replace it. I sigh perhaps a bit too loudly, I can see him glare at me. I hoped my apology, heartfelt as it was, would have been enough to repair the damage caused from my listening to Jared, and for a few days it looked like it was just enough. But only for a few days. Since then things are worse, every day they are worse. His laughter is less enthusiastic and more forced with every car ride. His humors darker, more melancholy with each shared meal. His eyes have lost their sparkle, his smile has lost its luster, and he no longer looks at me as he once did, with fondness and amusement. The worst part though has been the change in our bickering. Our bickering used to be the lubricant in our relationship, a method of establishing and maintaining that easy rapport that seemed to leave so many observers confused or assuming that we're more than just partners. But in the last few weeks it's been anything but. The rapport has faded, the bickering invariably devolves to shouting, cold stares, and hurt feelings. Just as it has today.

It is late in the evening and we are in my office discussing suspects in a case. A husband and wife have both been accused of murdering their children's nanny. We each took turns making the case for whom we believe the prime suspect to be. I favor the wife initially, he favors the husband. Somehow our discussion devolves from a discussion of the case into an argument about the nature of trust. As has become the norm for these situations he becomes agitated and spiteful, and the conversation degenerates further until meaningful argumentation is no longer possible. Then things change. I'm not sure what it is but suddenly the air seems charged between us. Booth stands at one point and begins pacing abound my office like a caged lion. When he finally turns his attention toward me I can feel his eyes challenging me, searching for my own. I try to avoid his gaze but eventually I turn to look at him and my heart breaks at the pain within them.

"How long Bones? How long have we known each other? Friends and Partners going on four years and the first time someone says I'm a loser, calls me a coward, you just accept it at face value."

"I said I was sorry Booth. I've tried to explain if you'd just make the effort to understand…" He's not even listening now. "Anyway it wasn't just anyone, it was Jared." I say that in a voice so soft and low I'm sure he hasn't heard me. I'm wrong. He's a former army sniper, Ranger trained and his senses are as sharp as ever, including his hearing.

Booth's tone is as accusatory as it is questioning, his anger is so focused, his manner so determined that right now Caroline Julian herself would blanch if she was on the receiving end of his stare.

"So Jared says it and it must be true? Did Jared tell you about how I'm such a disappointment to our Dad because I settled for Master Sergeant? Did he give you that '_running the ridge-line_' bullshit too?"

I can't contain my shock to hear Jared's words thrown back at me from Booth. I knew Jared had lied to me, but for some reason it is only now that I realize the depth of his deception. All done to build himself up at the expense of his brother. I can feel Booth's appraising look and he too easily reads the truth on my face.

"Jesus he did didn't he? He gave you that line of shit and you just ate it up with a spoon." He shook his head in disbelief. "Who the fuck are you and what did you do with Temperance Brennan?"

Anger I'm used to by now, even disappointment, but this is new. Even I can tell he's disgusted with my naiveté.

"I don't know what that means." The words are out before I can stop myself and I cringe even as he explains it to me with bitter condescension.

"It means that I don't understand you. If I'd had that discussion with you about Jared you'd have argued with me, dissected what I said and critically analyzed it according to some anthropological something or other, then you'd have fought me on it until I either wore you down and convinced you otherwise or just walked away from it altogether. My little brother, however, he can just swoop in and spoon feed you that ego boosting crap and you suck it up like a high school girl looking to lose her panties on prom night."

"You're inferring that I don't generally believe you, and hold you to a higher standard of evidence than your brother. That's not true Booth. While in this instance I may have given undue credence to your brother's insight into your character, I do trust you. If I argue with you it's because I fail to understand your reasoning, not that I doubt your veracity. Anyway, what occurred with Jared's will never happen again...and I didn't lose my panties, we didn't even have sex. We only kissed..."

Just then I know I said the wrong thing, but I can't take it back.

"Right. You just kissed. Tell me the truth for once Temperance, what really did it for you? Was it all his bullshit about running that ridgeline, about taking risks that I wouldn't? Is that what worked for you? Did it get you wet hearing that hero crap from someone who's never seen combat? Did it make you want him? If someone had asked me before all this I'd have said no way in hell Temperance Brennan falls for something like that, but now? I don't even know who you are anymore so I gotta ask. Is that what did it for you?"

He's calling me a whore. Not in so many words but this is Booth, and Booth has never treated me with anything but the utmost respect, never been anything other than a perfect gentleman, never told me I am anything other than special. So with these words, this…he is calling me a whore. I've wronged him, yes, that's true, but as upset as I am with myself there are limits to what I'll take, even from him. Three weeks of walking on eggshells around him and now this, this self pitying bullshit? I tired of this, and I'm tired of him acting like this. I wronged him but I'm no man's whore, and I won't take this from anyone, not even him.

"Enough Booth. I've taken about all the bullshit from you I plan on taking today. You're not my boyfriend, I don't owe you any explanations about what we did or didn't do so get over yourself. Jesus knows I don't have to listen to this accusatory crap anymore, I mean if you'd wanted to make a move you would have done so by now so acting like a spurned lover is really getting old. And another thing Booth, I thought you knew me by now - I'm not some whore who swoons when someone tries to sweet talk me, even if the man's last name happens to be Booth."

I'm flushed with anger, seething, my hands balled up into fists pounding my hips as I speak. I swear if he doesn't watch his mouth I'm going to close it for him. The look on his face, I've seen that before. It's the look reserved for criminals and suspects, the look he uses in the interrogation room. I don't like being on the receiving end of that look.

"I had to ask Temperance." The words aren't spoken so much as spat. "I had to ask what worked because God knows what I've been doing for the last three years sure has shit didn't make any impression on you. I might as well be a dickless wonder the way you act around me, but Jared waltzes in and you can't wait to jump him."

"Really? That's what you think? Tell me Booth, exactly what was it you were trying to do to make an impression on me? Was it acting like a jealous child, scaring off any men that were interested in me but never making your interests known yourself? Was it putting that Goddamned line down and then constantly trying to pull me across it but never following through on your own desires? Jared isn't half the man you are Booth, he's not even close, but at least he had the guts to try something, anything, without acting like it was the biggest fucking mistake he'd ever made ten seconds later."

My eyes are burning and I can feel hot tears running down my cheeks. Booth's eyes fall from mine to the ground. When he speaks his voice is low and soft, but the pain it holds might as well be a cacophony of anguished screams.

"What I tried Temperance...what I tried to do, to be for you...I-I tried to be the best man I could be, for you." He looks at me and I can see only his sincerity and his pain. "For you Bones. I guess my best just wasn't good enough."

He stops and waits for me to comment, but nothing comes out. Anything I can think to say is a poor substitute for the abject surrender that would be required to pull us back from the brink of disaster and some part of me refuses to accept that I must capitulate to win him back. Some part of my brain insists that I can win this, as if this was a contest where someone could walk away a winner, I just need to remain rational. It is a small part of me but it is stubborn and my heart is already so broken that it cannot muster the strength to overrule my brain. When he sees I will say nothing, can say nothing, he continues.

"I'm sorry about before. I shouldn't have said those things, talked to you like that. I was out of line and I had no right to act like some jealous child or to interfere in your personal life. Don't worry though, I can guarantee that won't happen again. Ever."

He guarantees it won't ever happen again? Then it's over? He's throwing away everything now over a stupid date, one stupid moment of weakness and we're through? That is what it took finally, for my brain to be silenced, for reason to be vanquished. Until that moment I had never really thought he would leave me, never thought I would be the one to force him to abandon me. In a panic I reach after him, call out to him...

"Booth!"

He stops and looks at me, I can see it in his eyes. Defeated, broken. He's no longer my Booth.

"For the record Bones…just so you know my side of the story? My third year in the Rangers there was a Senator's son serving in my unit. Our squad was on a deep recon mission and we were ambushed. It was a near total wipeout, twelve men went in and only two came out alive, him and me. He was hit bad and it was all I could do…" He choked back a sob. "Long story short I saved his life, I got him back to his family in one piece. When his dad found out he offered to get me into West Point. West Point Bones. If I'd have gone in I would have come out an officer, maybe I'd be the one in the Pentagon right now instead of Jared. I don't know, it doesn't matter. Instead I asked him to recommend my brother to one of the academies, Jared chose Annapolis. I-I just wanted Jared out of there and away from our dad, you know? Anyway I didn't mind staying an enlisted man because I found honor among the men I served with, they…" His eyes bore into mine as these last words were spoken. "they were men I could trust, men who valued me and took me at my word. Men I never had to defend myself to and who never doubted me for a second. So I stayed and became Master Sergeant Seeley Booth, and my brother became who he is."

The weight of his words weigh so terribly upon me I nearly collapse under them. Everything about his brother is a lie. Everything I accepted was a lie. I doubted Booth, a true warrior, a true hero, a true friend. I doubted him and I failed to trust him, failed to honor our friendship. I couldn't even defend him against his brother's lies because he's right, the part of me that is the critical thinking forensic anthropologist who accepts nothing at face value wasn't there that night. In her place was the part of me that was a nervous fifteen year old girl who never got asked to a dance. She was in control that night and she wanted to believe Jared Booth because he was handsome and witty and paying attention to her.

I grasp at him, the fingers of one hand wrapped around his arm while my other hand has flown to my face, trying to hold back a sob and failing. I see it then, in his eyes, and I'm stricken. Immobilized by despair, struck dumb with fear. I'm not good with relationships, but that doesn't mean I don't learn from my mistakes and failures. I have learned that there are moments when relationships change, sometimes for the better, more often for the worse, but regardless they change and are changed forever in that moment. I know from looking at his eyes that this is one of those moments. Something is going to happen or will be said and we will either stand or fall based on what passes next.

I can feel Booth searching my face, my eyes for some sort of sign, some recognition or assurance that he hasn't failed me yet again and I can't give it to him because I don't know how. How can I tell him he hasn't failed me when I'm the failure? When the only reason he's hurting now is that I betrayed him?

"Sometimes..." Booth hesitates, the words are not coming easily to him now. What he wants to say, needs to tell me, how could it be so much more painful than what he's already said? What could make him hesitate now?

I find my voice, "Booth, please..." I begin, but the mere sound of my voice seems to spur him into action. The next words I hear hit me so hard the breath leaves my lungs and my heart contracts in pain. There are moments when a relationship changes, sometimes for better, more often for the worse, but they change forever in that moment. This was the moment. His words, what he said next, are etched indelibly on my heart and soul. Even if he absolves me of all my sins with his next breath I can never forgive myself. Our friendship, our partnership, our relationship dies with his words.

"Sometimes I wish I hadn't woken up after Pam Noonan shot me. Sometimes I think it would have been better to have died believing myself a hero, rather than live with the knowledge that I'm a failure."

There it was, what I'd been dreading. The one good man I have been privileged to know, the only man in my life who has always put my needs before his own, always been willing to sacrifice for me. The one man who has never given up on life, never surrendered or admitted failure no matter what life has thrown at him; an alcoholic and abusive father, a pathetic excuse for a brother, torture, pain, and guilt in amounts that would have crippled lesser men, that man stands before me now broken and defeated. Not at the hands of an enemy but from the betrayal of a putative friend. Me. He wishes he was dead. He'd rather be dead than standing here with me and as I search his eyes I realize for the first time that there is nothing behind them, not even sadness or pain. He is drawing breath but he is already dead inside.

My knees buckle and I fall backwards toward my couch landing heavily. I gasp for breath and I can't breathe. My eyes are flooded with hot, bitter tears and I can't see for their falling. I can't hear for the blood rushing in my ears. My world is spinning out of control and as I teeter on the edge of the abyss I want nothing more than to let it swallow me. I understand now what love is, all it took was losing the only man I've ever loved to find it. I think of him not being there for me and I know that my world will have no meaning without him in it. I'd rather he hate me, despise me, ignore me, as long as he is alive and near me, that's all that I need. Even that is too much to ask now. Booth is a warrior, above all else he fights and now that I have killed our love it is all he has left. I can see it in his eyes, through burning tears, the emptiness that lies within. He will seek his own death, a warrior's death, a legacy that Parker and his true friends can look at with pride. That is what he will do. I know that now because his eyes have shown it to me and for once I can read him like he has always been able to read me. There is nothing left for me to do but mourn the death of my beloved. My Booth. And so I cry.

* * *

_A/N: Alright, this bit is the original story so it's still angsty, but the next bit is a tad fluffier, sort of, eventually. Anyway, you know the drill. Comments, thoughts, suggestions, all are welcome._

_._


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: Unfortunately I don't own nor am I involved with the production of _Bones_, - so if Hart Hanson & Company are reading this? Call me.

**Synopsis**: In the aftermath of their fight Brennan and Booth come clean with one another, and the real reason for Booth's obsession over Brennan's date with Jared is discovered and the result of this long night will make or break the partners forever.

_A/N: Adult language and situations apply including controversial topics, frank discussions of emotional and physical abuse, and suicide. Oh and there may be a tiny smidgen of smut in there._

**A Pivotal Moment - Chapter Two – The Long Dark Night**

* * *

I don't know how long I lay there on the couch crying, body wracking sobs wrenched from me at regular intervals, until exhaustion finally claimed me. When I awake the first thing I notice is his scent, strong and all encompassing. My eyes, swollen, sore from my grief, struggle to focus but when they do I see that the source of his scent is his jacket covering me. I'm confused then, I have a perfectly good throw on the back of my couch, why would he cover me with his jacket? Then I realize why. I am no longer on my couch, the feel of velour beneath my cheek, the comforting rock and sway of movement, and I know that I'm in the SUV. Booth took me from my couch, where I lay exhausted, emotionally and physically vulnerable, and carried me to his SUV, covered me with his jacket to protect me, to keep me warm, and was undoubtedly driving me home to spare me the humiliation of being found at the lab in the morning. The sudden rush of tenderness I feel nearly overwhelms me.

After everything that was said could he care about me still? Could my love even forgive me? I want to turn then, to gaze upon his face, to tell him how grateful I am to have him in my life, but I'm afraid. Afraid this isn't what it seems, that this is just his chivalry, an innate need to protect and care for the weak and helpless, instead I still, a chill running through me despite the heated seat and warmth of his jacket. I've been called an ice queen before, my detachment, reserve, and ability to compartmentalize are often taken for signs that I'm unfeeling or emotionless, but nothing could be further from the truth and it is only now, now that the chill settles into my core, now that I feel the icy fingers of despair as they clutch at my heart, that I can truly appreciate the term 'ice queen'.

The SUV has stopped and I know we're at my apartment, still I remain just the way he left me. Booth's door shuts quietly, his intent to protect me still, his desire not to wake me, disturb my slumber, it thaws the ice in my veins just a touch, but no where near as much as the feel of him. My own door opens and I feel the warmth of him when he leans across me, the snap of my belt unbuckled and I nearly jump, nearly. I've kept my eyes screwed shut, if he's aware of my deception he doesn't share the knowledge, perhaps he's fooled, perhaps he doesn't care, conjecture threatens to undo me as my mind races to evaluate the possibilities, but it's the sudden heat of him that finally does me in. His arms, I know how strong he is but my God it's one thing to know and another to feel the power in them. 'Guy Hugs' were never as telling as this, when he scoops me up in his powerful arms, hoisting me like a child's plaything, clutching me tightly against his chest. Instinctively my own arms wrap themselves around his neck and my head tucks itself into the join between neck and shoulder. As exhausted as I am, heart sore and emotionally drained, this feels right. There's something to be said for putting the brain in neutral and the heart in overdrive, right now I'm not thinking of how screwed up this all is, how we've all but ruined our partnership, how I've betrayed our friendship, instead I luxuriate in the feel of him, the scent of him fills my nose and overwhelms my senses, the heat roiling off of him has long since melted the ice in my core which even now has begun to stir at his proximity.

A moments hesitation, the jingle of brass and steel, I'm not sure how but without losing his grip, with barely any effort, he's unlocked the door to my apartment. In the span of a few heartbeats we're inside, a few more and he's setting me on the couch. I'm almost panicked, I don't want this to end, this feeling of warmth and strength, the feeling of being protected, loved. This feeling of Booth. So it's no wonder that he's set me down and my arms remain wrapped around him, my face remains pressed into the join between neck and shoulder, I can feel him pulling away and instinctively I resist. The jig is, as they say, up at this point. I suppose there are unseen perils to putting one's heart in overdrive and brain in neutral, such as not knowing when to let go.

"Temperance, let go now." Booth's voice is level, not emotionless just drained. "Bones, c'mon now. I let you fake it this long, you have to let go so I can lock up."

"Why? If I let go you'll leave me." Heart in overdrive, but I'm still Temperance Brennan. Even my heart is logical.

"Bones, if I promise not to leave will you let me go so I can at least close the door?" He's talking to me like I'm a child, but he's talking to me.

"I know you Booth, you never break a promise. Promise me and I'll let go, but you have to promise to stay." Logical Temperance, all the way and I can feel his warm breath wash over the side of my face as he releases a breath in frustration.

"Fine. I promise you Bones, I won't leave right away. Now can I lock up?"

"No, promise you'll stay until I say you can leave." He tenses, every muscle coils beneath me and it's a frighteningly arousing sensation. The only thing I can compare it to is the feeling of riding a horse bareback, the muscles tensing, smooth and hard beneath the thin material of his t-shirt. Finally he relaxes.

"Okay Bones, you win. I won't leave until you let me, are we good now? Can I at least close the door?" Exasperation and defeat is all I hear from my poor defeated Booth.

"Okay." I release him and the second my hands are no longer linked he's gone, his movements are fast and fluid. I know Booth, he keeps his promises. Part of me knows this, accepts it, is counting on it, the heart part of me. The other part, the brain part, that part that has made me famous, made me wealthy, garnered me the recognition of my peers, the admiration of my students, the part that has probably ruined my relationship with Booth? That part expects him to run as far from me as he can and never look back. When he doesn't return right away, when the seconds pass into minutes and there is still no Booth, that part begins to gloat. '_See', it says, 'see how he runs! He is just like everyone else! He'd have left you in the end anyway, better now than when you're even more in love with him!_' Of course that's the very moment I hear my door open and close. Looking up I see him walking into my apartment, he drops his gym bag at the door, takes time to remove his shoes, his face is vacant and he scarcely looks at me.

"Water, wine, or beer?" He's calm, voice level, as he walks toward my kitchen.

"Water and wine." I'm thirsty, but I know I need alcohol too. There's no way I'm getting through this night without it.

"Huh, if you'd wanted a cracker too I'd take you to church."

"I don't understand." I get the joke, I'm not stupid, but why would he make such a profane attempt at humor for me?

"It's a joke Bones. Water, wine, crackers, Catholic mass. I figured you'd get a laugh out of that one, religion and all." He's returned from the kitchen with a bottle of water and a glass of wine for me, a bottle of beer for himself. He's no less reserved, there's no sense of a smile in his face, his only humors are dark and brooding.

"No, I got the joke Booth, I just don't understand why you'd think I'd find it funny." I want him here, I want to make things right, but not like this. He's trying to placate me, that's not what this is about. "I don't believe in God or organized religion but I don't belittle your faith, and I don't expect you to denigrate your belief in the Eucharist for me."

"You don't belittle my faith? Really? You sure about that there Bones? Because I seem to recall almost every discussion of ours concerning religion consists of you calling God my 'invisible friend', comparing Jesus to a zombie, and railing against the Church as an archaic institution. Or was I missing the subtext of those conversations?" He's bitter, sarcastic, confused and I can hear the faintest tinge of anger already edging into his voice.

He's right. I don't believe in God nor do I have faith, nor am I overly tolerant of religious institutions, but he is. I think back and he's right, I have attacked his faith, denigrated his beliefs. I never meant to. I don't single them out and I have gotten better about watching what I say, but still, how many times have I belittled his faith? Questioned his beliefs? Provoked him into senseless squabbles with the sole intent of what? Trying to change him? Trying to rationalize him out of his beliefs? He challenges me to change me, but always for the better. He tasks me to defend my opinions and when presented with the evidence and I find his cases compelling, I do change, I do adapt. What is my attack on his faith but an attempt to change him, yet would it necessarily be for the better? Seeley Booth is a man of honor, a chivalrous man, what is he with out his faith? He would not be my Booth.

"You're right Booth, I'm sorry. I-It's wrong of me to constantly attack your faith, it's important to you and I know how seriously you take it. I should respect that, at least I should respect you for believing as you do." Heart felt, sincere, direct. So why is he looking at me as if I'd suddenly grown a second head?

"Okay Bones, what's going on here? We got into a huge fight and like any other asshole I reduce you to tears. We come back here and despite the fact that I'm acting like a prick tonight you don't want me to leave. I try and crack a joke and you're apologizing for insulting my religion?"

Booth's face is a riot of emotions; confusion, anger, regret, none of them are good. His eyes are even worse, still lifeless, still flat, there is no spark within them. My brain screams for control, but my heart refuses. I do the only thing I think I can, I tell him what I'm feeling.

"I'm sorry Booth, I don't want us to argue like that anymore and I-I know that we bicker, we have differences of opinion, and I liked that, what we had, but anymore we just fight and I know it's my fault. And you're not an asshole or a prick. You…I…I just want to make it up to you, all the times I've said the wrong thing, done the wrong thing, you don't deserve that from me, you deserve better." His face is unmoving, but I think I see the faintest flicker behind his eyes. "You know I don't believe in God but that doesn't mean I can't respect your beliefs and I should, because they're yours."

"Are you done?"

"N-No. I'm sorry for always arguing with you about love and m-marriage, I know that they're important concepts to you and just because I don't want to get married or, or think I'll ever find someone who loves me the way…the way…" I can't finish.

My voice is cracking, choked with emotions, breaking on them. He's standing there, an expectant look on his face, arms crossed, eyes smoldering, and I can't finish. I want to say '_the way I love you_' but the words won't come out. There's a lump in my throat I can't swallow around. Suddenly my mouth is dry and the air has gone out of the room. Nervously I grab the glass of wine and down it in one go. His statuesque form finally moves, David come to life, he closes the distance between us in two long strides, grabs my arms roughly causing the glass to fall to the floor with a crack. His eyes, still smoldering, burn into mine, burning away the lies, the impurities within.

"_Someone who loves you the way_ what, Temperance?" His gaze fixed me in a way I can't describe, I can do naught but speak the truth now.

"The way I love you." The truth will out, and my brain is in shock just as my heart elates at telling him, if only he can say something, anything back.

"And do you Temperance? Do you really love me that much?" Booth's voice is steady but his face cracks just so, eyes shimmering as he speaks.

"Yes Seeley. More than anything. More than anyone I've ever known." At the mention of his name I see him start, he knows how serious I am.

"Then why?" Booth's question is hardly new, it is Jared, always it comes back to Jared.

"I-I don't know." A lie, a palpable lie, but I know no other thing to say that won't ruin everything.

"Bullshit. Don't lie to me Bones, you suck at lying. I always know when you lie because you have a half dozen tells that light up like a Christmas tree." Not livid, but not relaxed. Booth walks the razor's edge between the two.

"I don't know what…" My response dies on my lips as I see the mirthless smile on Booth face.

"It means there are at least six prominent physical characteristics that tell me when you're lying. So just tell the truth, why Jared."

"Because I was afraid. I was afraid and there was this line, your line Booth, but I, I've never felt this way about anyone before and, and I thought if I…he's your brother, if I felt the same way around him then it wasn't special it was just something…"

"Biological?" The pained manner in which he says it tells me I've used that term one too many times for his liking, if only he knew why I said it so often.

"Yes, biological. But it wasn't that...I was attracted to him, yes, but it wasn't anything like what I feel when I'm with you and I, I knew then that anything with him would be an imitation of what I could have with you but it terrified me." That was the truth, heart and brain agreed. Booth was different, he was more than anything, anyone she'd ever experienced, and that scared the hell out of her.

"Why? Why would that terrify you? So I'd be better than Jared, that's a good thing in my book, just so you know." Booth's features softened somewhat, but the edge in his voice remained. "C'mon Bones, tell me. How is that bad?"

"Because being with Jared, laughing with him, talking about you, about work, it wasn't bad Booth, it was good. It was like any other really good date, don't you see?"

"No, I…" Then Booth stopped, his head tilted slightly, a knowing look bloomed upon his face. "You mean what you feel when you're with me is so much more, more than what you felt with Jared or any other man. And the feelings are stronger too, more intense, and that terrified you because of how good it would be?"

"Yes. I mean, no. I, I don't know how to describe it, it's just, being with you is so overwhelming sometimes I-I'm not used to anyone making me feel the way you do and the thought that I could lose you if, if I told you because you don't…not about me, I know, I know you don't but I can't help but feel that maybe…" Heart still in overdrive but I really need my brain right now, words aren't coming out right and tears are peaking out the corners of my eyes, and I promised myself I wouldn't cry, crying is blackmail to a man like Booth. "There's this line and we can't ever be anything, but I've never, not with anyone as much as you and, and everyone I love always leaves me b-but I can't lose you and now, n-now I'm going to l-l-lose you any way because I, I don't know how to s-s-say the r-right thing and you d-don't feel the s-s-same way…"

I'm done in, no longer able to contain what I feel, the need, the desperation, the desire for him, the longing to be touched, to be held, to be his, and the knowing that I'll never have him cuts my insides up like ground glass, tears at my heart with jagged claws. Knowing I'm not his type, that he can never love me as much as I love him, that he doesn't trust me with his heart, that he's smart not to since I have no idea what to do with a noble heart like his. I'm a fraud, a phony, I'm still a foster child smelling of trash bags and wearing second hand clothes. I'll never be good enough for him and I know it. He knows it too, now, and I can tell by how he holds me, his hands clamped roughly over my arms, pinning them to my sides, holding me at arms length, there is no warmth in that embrace. I am garbage to him.

What happens next is totally unexpected. He does not sweep me into his arms, he does not cradle me lovingly, there is no 'guy hug' with sweet endearments. No. Instead he pushes me back roughly onto the couch, and launches himself at me. The full heft of his one hundred and ninety pounds of lean muscle and sinew is felt along the length of me as he grinds me backward into the couch, pinning me under him. If that does not stun me, the assault his lips play upon me does. Our gazes lock, utter surprise in mine own, something dark and hungry in his. Lowering his head he roughly captures my lips, pressing his own mercilessly into mine. His teeth grasp my lower lip, plucking at it, nipping it none too gently, pulling it aside to allow his tongue entry. For all the crush and bravado his approach is tentative at first, and it is then that I have an epiphany - Booth is a military man at his core and the tip of his tongue is scouting out the area in advance of a full blown assault on my mouth.

The assault begins not long after this thought. His teeth rake across my lip again, sucking it harder, allowing his incisors to dig into the tender flesh. The sensations he elicits are raw, primal, and so erotic that I gasp involuntarily as my core floods with heat. That gasp is all the advantage he needs as his tongue launches a surprise offensive, raking across my teeth, probing deeply every recess of my mouth. The heat of that silky muscle probing, seizing my mouth, claiming everything as it's own finally inspires my own tongue to action. Rising too late in defense combat is joined regardless and it is no less spirited. We wrestle for control, and even though it's a lost cause the fight is fierce as our tongues grapple with one another. The feeling of velvet heat, the presence of hot moist sex in my mouth stokes the fire at my core, it makes my knees weaken and my head swim. Jesus this man can kiss. Anything I've done before this was a travesty, a pale imitation of the real thing, an insult to the art itself. If Booth's God exists then it is clear He has blessed Booth above all men with a mouth and tongue that are truly wondrous. His tongue, his lips, the way they played upon my mouth, dominating it, teasing and pleasing at once, pulling forth sensations I'd never felt when kissing. This was what terrified me, this is what I longed for and feared - the ideal that was Seeley Booth, the man who could and would, literally, ruin me for all other men. I knew once I was his I could never survive his absence, and that thought alone left me shaken.

When oxygen at once became an issue we parted, and only then. The air that was sucked in was harsh and dry, each breath I drew was a foul arid waste compared to the sweetness of his taste, the lusciousness of his silken tongue, the hot steamy paradise of our mouths, the very act of breathing made the sudden withdrawal of that oh so welcomed interloper all the more keenly felt. Irrationality struck as I wondered what it would be like to endure life without ever experiencing that beautiful sensation again. My eyes, through lids half closed in impassioned thought, stare into his, no longer cold and black, but warm, chocolate brown, amber centered with passion, black rimmed with hunger, there is something almost feral about his eyes. He pushes off of the couch, pulling me up with him until we are roughly sitting upright, then he pushes back again until he is sitting on the edge of the coffee table, facing me. The feral glint remains, but there is a measure of practiced calm about him now. A chained beast waiting to be unleashed, or caged again permanently.

"I'm sorry Bones, I…I just couldn't resist any longer. You looked so damned kissable. I had to taste you, I had to know the feeling of your mouth on mine."

"But why stop? I didn't want you to stop. I didn't do anything wrong, did I? I-It wasn't bad was it?" God please don't say it was bad.

"No, you didn't do anything wrong Bones, but I did. I had to stop."

He's apologizing, he's making excuses for the most phenomenal kiss I've ever had. He's already planning his exit strategy damn him, this is not what should be. Not now, not after everything we've done to one another, we need this. I need this.

"Booth don't, don't say it was a mistake. I-I love you." Heart in overdrive damn it Bones, heart in overdrive, it's gotten you farther with him than your brain ever has.

"No, don't say that Bones. Not yet."

"I don't understand, what do you mean not yet?"

"Jared, part of the reason you were with him was fear, part was my own cowardice." The light in his eyes dims, but does not go out entirely. "I'm a coward Bones, at, at my core I'm a coward. I've kept you waiting all this time because I was afraid to do anything to change what we have because…because you mean so much to me and I-I'm not good enough for you. Don't you see? I'm good enough as a friend, but this? I'm just not good enough for you."

"Booth that isn't true, you're more than good enough. Seeley…"

"No. No you have to listen to me now. Don't tell me you love me, listen to me now and when I'm done, when you know the real me, the me I don't let anyone else see, ever, then you can decide." His look of defeat is so well practiced it makes my heart break all over again. "And when you decide not to love me Bones? No hard feelings, because I know it's the right decision. I know it's what's best for you."

Damn him. Damn him for making up his mind already that I won't love him, can't love him, that somehow he knows what's best for me. Damn him.

"You said when I decide, well shouldn't I be allowed to make that decision Booth? Or are you going to do it for me? Tell me what you need to tell me Booth. Tell me, and let me decide if you're really worth loving or not."

*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*

_**Booth's POV**_

She's sitting there, tired, drawn, eyes still puffy and red from the crying she'd done for hours earlier tonight, crying I caused, and she looks so damned beautiful. I wasn't kidding when I said that I had to kiss her because she looked so damned kissable. The woman does that to me, she has this flawless porcelain skin, those luscious, full lips, and that ineffable look of sadness that makes me want to kiss her until all she can think is 'wow', and tonight, tonight in a moment of weakness I finally did it. Thank God for my weak moral character, because that was the best kiss I've ever had. It wasn't tender, it wasn't soft, it was hard and fast and passionate, teeth and tongues, lips and biting. I swear I never want to drink anything ever again, for fear of washing the taste of her out of my mouth. So why am I going to tell her how horrible I am? Oh, right, because I love her and she deserves better than me. Better than another broken down old killer in love with her, fucking up her life when she could be truly happy with someone else, someone better. Still she deserves something from me, something more than another tired platitude or another well worn line, so the truth is what she'll get this time, unvarnished and in all it's moldering glory.

"I guess, I guess I should start at the beginning. You know my old man drank right? Well he didn't always drink, I mean not heavily anyway. When I was a kid, about Parker's age, he had this nickel Coke machine, one of the old cooler types. He always kept an upturned crate next to it so the little kids could stand up on their own and grab a bottle of pop. Inside there were always a few beers, not a lot, three or four, just enough for him and a few of his regulars to share at the end of the day." The look on Bones' face, she's soaking it all in, analyzing it, filtering. That's good, she needs to know what she's dealing with here, she needs to know this isn't going to work.

"So he wasn't always an abusive alcoholic, when did that change?"

"I was still little, about seven. Money got tight, mom got a job as a secretary for a local ad agency…"

"You said she wrote jingles." Brennan's tone was confused, not accusatory.

"She did, just not at first. First she was a secretary, then one day they needed an extra to help cut a commercial and she pitched in. Her boss noticed she had a decent singing voice so she started earning extra money cutting tracks, you know, singing some of the jingles. I guess it wasn't long after that, that they started letting her proof the copy and next thing she was writing her own stuff." I'm actually kind of proud of my mom even if she never really stuck around for me.

"So she worked her way up through the male dominated hierarchy and went from a lowly entry level administrative position to a more empowered creative one. That's very commendable, you should have been proud of your mother."

"I am. It was the seventies Bones. Nurse, secretary, receptionist, those were a lot more common than doctor, lawyer, or copywriter. It took a lot of guts for my mom to do what she did, and we needed the money."

"And that's what caused the problems with your father? The fact that your mother was making more money than he was?" Bones' voice softened, her eyes understanding the conflict in the man before her now.

"Yeah, the old man started drinking more, a lot more. She'd complain about it and he'd just yell at her, tell her we could afford it since she was so rich now. By the time I was eight he was hitting us. Not all the time, not every week, and not Jared, never Jared, we always made sure he was safe. It was just some days he'd come back after a really bad day and he'd had too much to drink, one of her jingle's would come one the air and that'd be it, he'd just start smacking her around or take the belt to me if I was handy." I can see how she's watching me, I can't help but scrub my face with my hands, it hurts, remembering what I can still think of as the 'good times', when Mom was still with us.

"Anyway, I guess, I guess it was right before my tenth birthday, the first time he really hurt me. He'd managed to stay focused on Mom pretty much when he'd get mean drunk, but my birthday was coming up and I really wanted this new Schwinn ten speed but it was expensive, and money was tight. Anyway mom got an advance and gave the money to the old man to buy the bike. Instead he came back rolling drunk and fit to be tied. They got into it, and this time she took a few swings back at him. Then he got mean. He took off his belt, wrapped it around his fist and really laid into her. I couldn't stand it anymore, I jumped at him, hit him right behind the knee and took him down. When he got up he came after me, hard. No belt, just the back of his hand, slapping me down again and again, he split my lip, cut the inside of my cheek, bloodied my nose until I was spitting out mouthfuls of blood."

"What about your mother? What did she do while you were getting beaten? Didn't she try and stop him?" Bones is so anxious, she thinks she'd be a terrible mother, that she has no maternal instinct, I know she's wrong. She's a natural care giver, she can't help it, besides I know first hand what a bad parent really is and that'll never be Bones.

"Mom, well, we had an understanding. We kept Jared safe, he was just a little kid, not even six years old, there was no way we'd let the old man get at him."

"But Booth, you were just a child too, you were barely ten. You were watching after your mother and brother, but who was watching after you?" The sadness in those eyes, no pity, thank God, but the sadness, she's felt it too.

"I had to look after myself. Mom, she worked and when she came back home she'd try and draw fire but Jared was just a kid and mom, she could only do so much. It was my job Bones, it was hard but, but I never cried, not once. Not until that night."

"The night before your birthday? Because that's when he really hurt you?" I nod once. "Did he break any bones?"

"He broke my heart." I can see she doesn't understand. "All the time he's wailing on me, he just keeps saying over and over, 'Goddamn Seeley, you're a fucking mistake. I should have pulled out, I should have spent that last quarter on a rubber, if I had you're sorry ass wouldn't be here right now and neither would mine.' That's what he said. I wasn't wanted Bones. My mom and dad, they got married because they had to, she was pregnant and they _had_ to, they didn't want me, they just didn't have any choice."

"Social mores of the times dictated their actions, not getting married would have meant you and your mother would have been ostracized. I get it Booth. Anyway even if your father felt confined in his relationship, your mother still loved you. Booth? Your mother loved you, right?"

"Abortion wasn't really an option back then Bones. I mean, yeah, maybe you could find a doctor or a surgical nurse who'd do it on the down low, or someone pretending to be a doctor in some back alley chop shop, and there were clinics in places like Mexico and Canada..." It hurts, it hurts more than I can say digging up that particular grave, but she needs to know how fucked up this all is, even my mother knew I was no good. She needs to know too. "Three hundred dollars American Bones. A bus ticket to Toronto, three bills, and a lifetime of hail Mary's and my mom's problem would have been solved."

"But she didn't do that Booth. Your mother kept you, she loved you, she…"

"She didn't have the three hundred dollars." Now she gets it, I can see it in her eyes. I was a mistake, that's what I was then and nothing's changed. Now she sees it too, I'm no good for her. "See Bones, I was a mistake, the old man knew it, so did my mom, and that night, the night before my tenth birthday? That's when I found out. The cost of a condom. I was a 25 cent mistake, a worthless piece of shit, a _loser_. The only purpose I served was keeping my baby brother safe and taking the heat off my mom, so that's what I did, that was my life."

"Oh Booth…" Bones has that look, that ineffable look of sadness that tears at my battered heart, but she has to know, I can't stop now.

"I never cried, not in front of him, not in front of any of them. Alone, at night, when they thought I was asleep? That was my time to let go, but never in front of them, I'd never give them the satisfaction."

I still don't. My childhood was hell but it prepared me for my life. In boot camp they couldn't break me. In the Rangers I excelled despite the harsh treatment. I went through three levels of SERE training without cracking once, hell I actually had to get a psych eval after that because the trainers thought I was mental – no one goes through SERE without cracking once, no one until me. Like I said I don't cry, not really, and yet with her? I've come as close to really crying in front of her as I ever have with anyone. A half dozen times now I almost let the water works flow, it's hard not to since she's already in so deep and part of me aches to find comfort in her, but now, tonight, she's in all the way and she'll get to see the heart of darkness, the parts of me I never let out, the thing that even SERE couldn't break. She'll see how disgusting I am and she'll run, and that's good.

My Bones, she needs to run as far from me as she can, spare herself the agony of being with someone like me, the needy beast who'll cling to her for comfort and only hold her back. This will be hard on both of us, because the thing is Bones, she compartmentalizes, and that sounds like a good thing, and I guess it is sometimes, but here's the problem with compartmentalizing - out of sight out of mind. Stick your pain in the compartment, tamp it down, hide it away, and you don't have to deal with it. So when she brings it out hers is still fresh and clean. Me? I don't compartmentalize, I bury. I dig a grave for my pain, shoved it in, cover it up, weight it down with stones and when I do pull it up it's rich and ripe like one of our corpses, and it's just as awful to deal with, hell it gets worse each time. What I'm doing for her right now? This is my Guatemala, my mass grave of pain, we'll be ass deep in the stink of it before we're done and then she'll know why loving me is a bad idea.

"Booth I'm sorry, that's…I'm so sorry."

"Don't pity me Bones, Jesus, anything but pity. I'm out, I survived." I can't keep the edge in my voice, can't muster the harshness I need. I try and it comes out weak, I can see it in her eyes, if it's not pity I don't know what it is.

"No Booth, not pity. Empathy. I understand how that feels though, not all of it, no. But not feeling wanted? When my mother and father abandoned me, when Russ left me? I felt as if I wasn't good enough, as if they'd left because I did something wrong. I, I know it's not the same but from there to the system, once I was in the system it was like I was garbage and, and the other kids would tell me that, that my folks left because I was a mistake. I wasn't what they wanted. So no, not pity Booth, never pity, just empathy."

Christ I can't believe what they did to her. Next time I see Max I'm clocking that bastard, Russ too. How could they make anyone as beautiful and wonderful as my Bones feel like garbage, as if she wasn't wanted. I'm not worthy of her, never have been and never will be in my opinion, but even I know better than to treat her like crap and then waltz back in expecting to be welcomed back with opened arms. Max and Russ, definitely on my to do list. Still, I gotta continue.

"I get that Bones, but it is different. At least your mom and dad loved you when they were with you, mine, well you already know about the old man, and my mom? She tried. She really did, but I think it was just too hard for her to love me, because of what I was, what I represented. Anyway, she left us when I was thirteen, right before my birthday, again. Ya' know there's a reason I don't like celebrating my birthday." Empathy again, she says it's empathy and I believe her, my Bones wouldn't lie to me. She's quirking her mouth just so, a small sad smile that looks so adorable.

"I can't say that I blame you, this year's was certainly no better, what with Jared and what I…" Bones's face froze, a shocked look took root slowly, horror filled her eyes. "Oh God Booth, I…I'm so sorry, I didn't know about…and to not say anything, to let you think that I thought… Oh God, how can you ever forgive me? How can you…"

Jesus, she gets it now, part of it anyway, but this isn't what I expected, and her crying like this is tearing me up. She's shaking, sobbing, I can't stand this, she'll probably kick my ass later, then again she liked the kiss so maybe not, but before she can sob again I'm there at her side, pulling her into my arms, onto my lap.

"It's okay Bones, hey, c'mon now. Shhh Temperance, come one babe, it'll be alright." Christ she's as light as a feather. I need to get her to eat more. Seriously if she weighs a buck fifteen I'm Luc Robitaille. In my lap, arms around her, clasped to my chest and my Bones, my poor Bones is practically shaking, her tiny body wracked with guilt. Fuck me, I can't do anything right. I wanted her to know how screwed up I am, why it's my fault not hers, but she's blaming herself. She wasn't supposed to react like this, it's not her fault. Bones didn't know that being called a loser would set me off, hurt me the way it did. She didn't know that it was beat into me every day for five years of my life that I was a worthless piece of shit, a loser no one would want. She didn't know and it's not her fault, I know that now I just had to dig it up and haul it out to deal with it. Like I said, I bury the pain but this last time, not deep enough, no sir, no way in hell deep enough. Damn, my Bones is still crying, but the body wracking sobs are slowing, her breathing no longer pained, less labored, still she's crying because of me. Everything I do hurts her, if I didn't need her so much I'd do us both a favor and leave.

"Hey Bones…Temperance…c'mon sweetheart, calm down for me, okay?" I have one hand tangled in her hair, holding her head gently to my chest and the other at the small of her back rubbing long slow circles, and I just keep rocking her gently back and forth, telling her it'll all be okay, begging her not to cry.

I don't know how long we stayed like that, ten minutes, twenty, it doesn't matter. Finally she pushes back a little, looking up at me with puffy, watery eyes, tear stained cheeks and a trembling lip. So damned vulnerable. I swear it's taking everything in me not to kiss her right now. Of course I don't have to wait, before I know it she's grabbing my head with both hands and pulling me down, her lips are crushed against mine and Jesus the feel of that mouth, that warm wet willing mouth, I could fucking die right now and leave this world a happy man. She's nipping at my lower lip, and I know what she's wanting so without hesitation my tongue snakes out to meet hers. The feel of velvet as her tongue glides over my own, the way they dance around each other, sliding, thrusting, pulling at one another. My God she can kiss, gentle yet demanding, forceful, passionate, and yielding all at once. No other woman kisses like this, no other woman demands as much, no other woman would get as much either. Our mouths are united, tongues locked in an epic struggle, only when breathing becomes an issue do we part lips. Gasping for breath I can see the almost feral look of need in her eyes and I know, God how I know it mirrors my own. She leans forward to renew the kiss but my hands have fallen to her hips and without a second thought I toss her from my lap to the couch and turn to follow her just as quickly.

Bones is laying there, surprised, disheveled, red-rimmed eyes from crying, swollen lips from our recent efforts and cheeks tinged pink with a growing blush. That needful look, that feral glint in her eyes makes me inhale suddenly, and when her tongue darts out to wet her lips my pants tighten painfully. I don't even wait for the invitation, I start crawling over the couch to her, one foot on the floor propelling me forward, one leg on the couch between hers, forcing them apart until my progress is stopped by the join of thighs. My hands come to rest on either side of her head and I lean down trapping her beneath me. She's arched beneath me, hands grasping my deltoids, fingers digging into the thin material of my t-shirt, ducking away from me her tongue laves a path from the base of my neck to the tip of my chin where her beautiful mouth begins placing small lover's bites at the edge of my jawline, nipping, biting, sucking her way down my jaw until she's latched on to the sensitive skin at the back of my mandible, just beneath my ear. The throaty moan she's rewarded with only encourages her.

"Jesus Bones…" Who knew my Bones was a biter? I'll catch hell for the hickey tomorrow, hoover marks at the Hoover? Definitely frowned upon. Then again she's giving it to me so I might just have it framed. To Show my gratitude for her efforts I flex the thigh muscles on my trapped leg while grinding it in to her center, her own legs clamp shut and she shivers appreciatively. My hands can't stand not being involved, I need to feel as much of my dream as possible, so grabbing her shoulders I push her back down. The low, throaty growl that escapes her when she's forced to give up her new chew toy is so damned sexy I almost give in but I need more of her, I always will. Looking down at her, her body is hot sweaty excited, chest heaving, a tell tale blush creeping up her neck, her cheeks already pinked, hair fanned out over the arm of her couch, but it's her face that stuns me. Bones' face is constricted into a moue of discontent and her eyes accuse me of leaving even though it's the last thing on my mind. That's when it hits me, Bones needs this as much as I do, wants this as much as I do, more maybe, because I know that it would kill me to stop now but I'm sure I could live with our partnership. Bones? I'm not so sure anymore. I think this is it for us, for her, we're all in or we're nothing. No more fucking around on my part, no more acting the coward, no more excuses or lies, no more somedays or eventuallys, it's now or never.

I can see it, the seed of doubt growing as our chests heave, gasping for air, she thinks I'm going to run and she's ready to pull back first. Not gonna happen. I may look in the mirror and see a coward, a loser piece of shit, a broken down old killer, but not to her. She never has, never said so, always and only that I was a good man. I know then that I can be that for her, hell if not good at least I can finally be a man. What I can't do is continue that old dance. No sir, no more. I won't do it to myself and I can't do it to her, so without a second thought or seconds hesitation my hands drop from her shoulders to the front of her blouse and the silk is shredded, buttons fly off in opposite directions, the plink and tink of hard plastic hitting everything around us. The look of shock on her face is priceless, but not as priceless as the small 'oh' her mouth makes when my hands find those full, flawless breasts of hers, or the kittenish mewling sound that comes out of that mouth when my thick, rough fingers start to tease and knead that soft creamy flesh through the lacey material of her bra. The feel of those heavy globes, warm and yielding beneath my hands, it's making my cock strain against the denim so hard it's a wonder the zipper doesn't burst, and my leg is still grinding away at her center, my thigh muscles still rhythmically flexing, thank God my body knew what to do even as my mind was still working through it all because Bones? Poor baby is so hot and wet down there she's soaked through her pants and I can feel the heat burning my leg. That's my next stop. Hell, I've got a lot of stops to make on this route, I'm in no hurry anymore.

I keep massaging her breasts, tracing the outline of her nipples with my thumbs, dancing over them, flicking them with my blunt nails and worrying them through her bra until the poor babies are pebbled rock hard, straining for release from the material holding them prisoner. The bra is lacey and thin, soft and silky, and it separates as easily as her blouse did seconds ago, another kittenish mewl from Bones. I think that's my new favorite sound, and I want to hear it a lot more tonight. Unable to resist I drop my head down and go right to it, laving the wondrous flesh in the valley between those soft heavenly globes, licking, sucking, nipping and biting everywhere my hands and fingers aren't. The taste of her skin is intoxicating, more so than ever I thought it could be. She tastes like peaches and cream and that special something that's uniquely Bones. My tongue traces the outline of a breast, following the soft, full curve, carving the underside of the flesh, swirling around the body of it until I've come to the nipple where I hesitate for just a moment. I can't stand not to take her in my mouth, but that moments hesitation draws out another mewl and cruel of me, I know, that was what I wanted first. When I first take her nipple into my mouth I can feel baby arching her back under me. The hitch in her breathing, the low sexy moan, if my engine needed an afterburner that was it. I suck hard on her nipple and revel in the sensation. Her taste is different here, so sweet, less peaches and cream, more rosewater and honey, my God I can't help but want more. I pluck at her pink pebble with my teeth, playfully flick my tongue over it repeatedly, suck harder and finally let it go with a pop. The gasping, desperate moan that draws out of her makes my cock twitch painfully and her body shudder. I do it again and again, until just the feel of my breath over that painfully engorged button of flesh is enough to make her shudder. On to the next one, after all we can't play favorites can we?

I'm half way through rewarding her other breast with all the attentions the first one received when Bones starts pushing at my shoulders, grabbing my hair, clawing at me. I'm so focused on the sweet candied pebble in my mouth that it doesn't register that she's actually talking to me.

"Booth…Booth! Damn it!" Panting for breath, perspiration misting her face, sweat beading on her clavicle. Damn my baby never looked sexier.

"Bones, baby, what is it?" She's pushing back on my shoulders and I start to pull away, worried that somehow I got it all wrong, but when I see her eyes I know that's not it. Instead she starts fumbling for my belt buckle.

"Need you now…need all of you" Poor baby's fingers, always so sure and dexterous, can't seem to figure out Mr Cocky. I grab her wrists and push them away while I focus on shucking my jeans. I've always been good at getting dressed in a hurry, undressed too, and this time is no exception. I've got my jeans down to my knees in a flash and after a second or two of ungainly thrashing I've kicked one leg free leaving the other hopelessly trapped but right now? Not my biggest concern, she is. Bones, my Bones, her nimble little fingers have unbuckled, unbuttoned, and unzipped the obstruction, and she's in the process of wriggling out of her slacks, back arched, pelvis thrust upward and shaking at me as her hands work the waistband down. That does it for me. Just as the waist band passes the iliac crest, exposing smooth, creamy, virgin flesh, the scent of her arousal hits me hard, staggers me, that sweet musky scent is something I instinctively need more of, it drives my actions then. Swatting her hands away I curl my fingers over the waist of her slacks and yank them down harshly, peeling them to the mid thigh in the first go, to her knees in the second, over her ankles with the third. Pants gone, her knees naturally parting, I can see heaven before me and I am a saved man, hallelujah!

Pink lace panties, the outline of a dark, inviting triangle beneath the material and suddenly there is no thought, no hesitation. I hook my thumbs into the elastic waistband and one solid pull tears them from her, the last barrier gone. Tossing the sodden wreck aside I can't help myself. Curling my hands into loose fists I drag the backs of my knuckles up her legs, tracing a path from the top of her hips to her knees, then turning palm down I caress the creamy expanse of skin along her inner thighs until I reach nirvana. The simple brush of my fingertips along her folds, the slightest sensation of moisture as it trickles from her, the faintest brush of my thumbs through the damp thatch of curls as they graze, ever so slightly in turn, that sensitive cluster of nerves. My hands mirror one another in effort and speed, each lazily traipsing along and repeating the process one, twice, thrice, each time eliciting more moans, groans, and mewling calls from my beloved, and with each sound she makes my cock jumps and twitches painfully in my boxers. I can see the frustration building within her. God knows why but I love it, love teasing her this way, love building up that tension within her, knowing what it does to her, what it's done to me for the last four years, what it's doing to me even now. Her face contorts, displeasure with my slothful efforts writ large upon it, her mouth a rictus of tension demanding release and I smile back. Not my charm smile, no, this is my '_you know you're getting it when I'm damned good and ready_' smile. Bones' face breaks into a sexy as hell little pout at that smile and that's just enough to drive me over the edge. I'm damned good and ready.

My hands travel up her legs and this time stay put. One thumb traces lazy ovals on the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, the other cautiously explores paradise. My fingers trace the outline of her folds, then dip tentatively inside her eliciting a low grown that pulls reason from me. I plunge two fingers into her, her walls flutter and grasp at them, pull them deeper into her and my God it's the most amazing thing ever. Slick, wet, hot velvet heat, so good, so right, my Bones, my Temperance, laying there before me, so beautiful. I start with a slow, steady rhythm, working them in and out, occasionally curling them just so to touch that rigid space within her that makes her breath catch and her body shiver. The fingers of my other hand wend their way through the soft thatch of curls, teasing them, teasing her, approaching that sensitive cluster of nerves but never touching. It takes only a few passes before her groans of frustration change in pitch and urgency, and I can no longer deny her.

Leaning down I place a simple kiss that is anything but chaste, my lips linger and the heat of her burns them. Still I can't help myself, the scent of her is so intoxicating, so much stronger here as my nose nestles that small soft patch of auburn. Her arousal, that sweet and tangy scent of musk, God's ultimate perfume, my tongue darts out and ghosts it's way around, grazing that sensitive bundle only slightly. I make one pass, then another, on the third my baby's had enough and bucks hard into my mouth and I surrender to my need and taste her. God, so hot, so wet, so sweet, she tastes like clover honey and Bones, so good that as my tongue darts in to delve the depths of her, pressing deeper into her slick heat, I find myself lapping at the juices that flow so freely. Fingers and tongue unite, combine, in this sacred space they dance around one another, partners in everything, as the fingers thrust the tongue traces the outline of her folds, worries her clitoris, laps at the juices. Baby's so damn wet, so ready for it, the tension in her has amped until her body is lifting off the couch, each thrust of my fingers is met by a buck from her hips, each pass of my tongue is met with a shudder. The low groans and moans and kittenish mewlings have evolved into loud demanding moans, growls of need and the occasional "Fuck Booth!" and "Oh God Seeley!" and my personal favorite "Yeeeungh!" which I know isn't really a word but it was the exact sound she made when I took her into my mouth, pushing back that hood of skin and curling my tongue around her button of love. Velvet meets velvet, her sex so burning hot, so sweet on my tongue, that I'm nearly lost in rapture as she breaks under me.

Her orgasms come in waves. The first wave breaks upon me and her whole body convulses in ecstasy, bucking into me but I'm prepared and my free hand holds her down. My fingers thrusting, dancing within her temple, the walls fluttering, grasping, pulling them deeper, the slick wet heat of her threatening to scorch them to ash. My tongue leaves its place at the altar long enough for my mouth to find a new home, lapping up the honey sweet juices that slicken her folds and drip down my hand. Delving into her, needing more of her taste, drinking her like rain water in the desert. As this wave recedes I slip a third finger into her and begin the ritual dance again. My mouth journeys upward, my tongue greeting her clitoris like an old familiar lover, tongue and fingers unite in purpose, they curl in their sacred spaces, worshipful needful caresses, and within minutes my baby, my Temperance, is again breaking beneath me. The second wave crests as my fingers are thrusting into her, my tongue caressing her, and a hand has found it's way into my hair. With each thrust and lick, with every accompanying groan and shudder, her fingers flex and spasm, massaging my scalp and tearing at my hair until the second wave recedes. Her hand remains even as my tongue and fingers return to begin the ritual yet again, only this time it dips low, curling around the side of my face and coaxing my gaze upward. The needful look in her eyes tells a story, satiated as she is she still hungers, she still wants, and for the first time since we started I am reminded of my own aching need.

Our eyes smile to one another and without a thought I dip down and place one long, last, lingering kiss at the crest of her mound, nuzzle that damp thatch of curls, inhale deeply and begin tracing a pathway upwards with my tongue, lightly licking my way toward her belly button, swirling my tongue around inside just to hear the soft mewling sound she makes, the same sound I've grown to love so much in the last half hour. Journeying upward toward the valley between her breasts, my hands glide along her sweat slickened skin, rough calloused fingers worrying her silky smooth hide, tickling her ribs, cupping her breasts. I place a hard sucking kiss on her sternum as my hands, full with her breasts, kneed the delicate flesh, my calloused thumbs scrape the sensitive skin of her nipples and suddenly she shifts beneath me, her fingers are grasping my shoulders, blunt nails digging into my deltoids as she pulls us together, crashing her lips into mine so hard our teeth click, the heat and passion of her kiss makes my senses reel, the feel of her tongue as it pushes it's way into my mouth, demanding, taking what it wants from me, claiming my mouth as her own, leaves me breathless with desire. When we finally part, gulping lungfuls of air in a valiant effort to stave off hypoxia, that feral glint in her eyes is back, only it's more that a mere glint.

Next thing I know her head has ducked under me, and she's laving a path down my chest toward the nearest nipple she can find while her fingers are dancing down my sides on a merry mission of their own. Bones finally latches on to a nipple, sucking it hard into her mouth, biting down with enough force to make me yelp, laving the rosebud, lavishing it with all the attention of a starving new born, I'm forced to grab the back of the couch to keep from crushing her. Her hands finally arrive at their destination, the sound of shredding cloth and I know my boxers are gone. There's a sudden sense of freedom replaced by the feel of hot hands as she cups my tightening sac, her blunt nails travelling the length of me, scraping the sensitive skin behind my glans and I'm damned if the person mewling now isn't me, but I can't help it, it's Bones stroking me, Temperance who holds me in her hands, and I need her in the worst way possible.

"B-Bones! Uhn! Christ Temperance! N-Need you now, ne-eee-ed to feel you baby." Her head pops up from where she'd been lavishing my breast with her attentions, a small satisfied grin on her face.

"What Booth, what do you need to feel?" Her coy smile, that knowing leer, baby was playing with daddy and that…oh shit she just squeezed my balls. Damn my Bones plays dirty, and God don't I love her for it.

"All of you, I need to feel all of you, all around me. I need to be inside you, please baby, please Temperance…" I'm begging, hell yes I'm begging. I'm not too proud to beg her, for her. I never will be either, not after tonight.

"Not until you tell me why Booth. Why do you need me? Why do you have to be inside me?" My baby had a mischievous grin, a hungry look. She wants me just as badly but she's the one in charge now, she's the one who literally has me by the balls. She gives them just a squeeze when I'm too slow to respond and I swear I damn near pass out.

"B-Because I love you Bones. I. Love. You." I groaned when she squeezed my nuts again, wrong answer, finally I growl in frustration, I'm not even sure of what I'm saying until the words are out. "Because you're mine damn it! You're mine and I own you, all of you, and I'm going to show you what that means. You belong to me Temperance, no one else but me." The wicked little smile that graces her lips tells me what I need to know, but Bones says as much herself. "Good answer Booth, now fuck me like you mean it. Make me yours Seeley, no one else's, never again, just yours."

I don't have to be told twice. The first thrust isn't perfect, Bones doesn't let go in time and my aim isn't quite right so I end up high and a little to the left. Gliding over her mound I re-center, let the length of my shaft slide along her for a thrust, my snake snaking it's way through her soft curls until I feel her small hand grab me, Bones tilts her pelvis just a little and the next thrust is unbelievable, I'm moaning out loud, I can't believe how good this is, how perfect we fit together. I'm buried inside my Bones and I have to stay stock still to avoid busting my nut right then and there, instead I look at the expression on her face and it's the mirror of my own I know; shock, surprise, desire, excitement, contentment, love, raw need and an all encompassing hunger for more. All of these things, all at once, as I look at her looking at me, my Bones, my Temperance, skewered on my cock, her walls grasping it, so hot and wet, so tight, so welcoming as they pull me deeper. I pull back slowly, just until the head is barely inside, hesitate for only a second and then thrust forward in one long, smooth stroke, again and again and again and I'm growling out "Holy Christ!" and "Bones!" and "Oh Baby!". The feel of her grasping me, pulling me deeper, the low throaty moan that erupts when I come home to her each time, the low rumbling growl that she pulls from me with each thrust, and she's moaning back "Holy Fuck!" and "Booth!" and "Oh Seeley!".

I'm thinking this is as good as it gets and then she shifts beneath me and it gets that much better. Tilting her pelvis just a bit, angling it enough to accommodate my length and the next stroke is - holy fucking Christ I'm home, I'm buried to the hilt in my baby, my lover, my Bones. Buried to the hilt and at the end of her walls, so perfect, so warm and wet and tight, she fits me like a glove and wears me like no other. Each thrust now is met with a thrust back from her, I can feel her walls grasping, fluttering, pulling me deeper, welcoming me home until my cock brushes over that rigid spot deep inside, the one no other man has ever touched, and she floods around me. I quicken my pace, step up my rhythm and groan even louder as her walls flutter around me, welcoming me home all over again. With each and every stroke now she quivers and quakes, a constant low mewling moan erupts from her throat, "Oh Seeley! Yes!" and "Oh God, yours, all yours!" and "Only Yours, for ever yours!" and she's grasping my back, her blunt nails carving ribbons of skin from my shoulders, my upper arms, my back with her frenzied clawing. I'm so close I can taste it, my sac is tight, my cock is straining, I can't stop the words from tripping out of my mouth, "So perfect, so beautiful" and "Oh God! My Temperance, my love!" and "All mine baby, all mine!" I hazard a look down at my Bones, my baby, my Temperance, arched beneath me, head back, throat exposed, her hair fanned out over the arm of the sofa, every muscle in her body tensed as she clings to me for dear life and me, my hips rocking into that slick wet heat threatening to fuse us together, and at that moment our eyes lock… Suddenly I'm falling into the raging blue depths when I can see the next wave coming and it's a fucking tsunami.

My rhythm begins to falter, I can't hold back anymore, my need too great, her body so demanding, I'm pistoning into her harder and harder, faster and harder, until her body is jerking to and fro, dancing to the broken rhythm of my thrusts, her sweat slick skin sliding over the well worn leather of the couch, bouncing her about like a rag doll, my very own bobble headed Bones on my bone. Freeing a hand I reach down between us, feeling my way to the join in our bodies, with a single light carress from my rough ridged fingers, that sensitive bundle of nerves catches fire and in a heartbeat she shatters beneath me. The waves break over us, she arches rigid lifting off of the couch, locking us in place, her grip so tight everywhere and all at once, her fingers digging into my flesh, her ankles locked behind my ass, the only movement the convulsion of her muscles following wave after wave of ecstasy as it floods her system, carrying her away. When it reaches her core, her center, the walls that fluttered and grasped before now clamp down like an iron vice and pull relentlessly, pulse around me with molten heat, demanding more and more until I finally break. Her groaning moans and kittenish mewling, it all combines into a keening wail of desire and lust and love and satisfaction that sounds like "SEEEEELEEEY!" And me? Half blinded by that same desire and lust and love and satisfaction, my own orgasm ripped from me until I'm all but incoherent, my seed pumping into her with each pulse, my own body tensing and relaxing, spasming in time to hers now until we are one body, one heartbeat, one giant orgasm and all I can cry is "MIIIIINE!"

Spent now, we fall. With the last of my fading strength I lay her down gently, shifting to one side so the back of the couch can support my bulk, sparing my Bones from being crushed under me. Her arms are still around me, hands still clinging to my shoulders, fingers still dug into my flesh, but I couldn't care less. I manage to throw a protective leg over hers, one arm becomes her pillow, the other I lay across her chest to cover her breasts, my hand resting gently on her shoulder. Her breathing steadies as I snuggle into her. Pressing my face into her sweat dampened hair and breath in that intoxicating smell of jasmine from her shampoo, infused as it is with the delicate scent of Bones. Her head lolls to one side and my lips lay gentle kisses upon the nape of her neck and the base of her jaw until I reach her earlobe which, inexplicably, pops into my mouth. I teasingly rake my teeth over the meaty morsel before letting it pop free and place a small, sweet, chaste kiss there. Whispering into her hair, the words fall from my lips, "_You are mine, Temperance Brennan, all mine, forever mine and I, I am yours from this day forward, forever yours._"

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SERE - Survival, Evasion, Resistance and Escape Training Program. There are three levels (A, B, and C) each more rigorous and demanding than the one before it.

_A/N: Feedback is always welcome, the more specific the better. Thanks__!_

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	3. Chapter 3

**fDisclaimer**: Unfortunately I don't own nor am I involved with the production of _Bones_, - so if Hart Hanson & Company are reading this? Call me.

**Synopsis**: Booth and Brennan have come through the long dark night but there are things left unsaid and now Booth's worried that the woman he loves beyond measure may discover he really isn't good enough. How will Brennan deal with the revelations of his past, his childhood, and the secret he keeps hidden deepest of all?

_A/N: Adult language and situations apply including controversial topics, frank discussions of emotional and physical abuse, and suicide. Oh and there may be a tiny smidgen of smut._

**A Pivotal Moment - Chapter Three – Revelations**

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_**Brennan's POV**_

Booth is holding me now, and I'm laying limply in his arms, clasped to his chest like a rag doll. The sweat of our efforts is drying, threatening to seal us together as if that is all it would take. We are joined in so many ways now, I will never be free of him, nor he of me. As surprising a revelation as that is for me, more surprising still is the realization that I never want to be free of him. He owns me now, I demanded as much and he gave me that and more. I'm shaking with relief, aglow in the aftermath of the most intense and incredible session of lovemaking I've ever had. Lovemaking. I, Temperance Brennan, now say words like '_lovemaking_' and '_own_' and '_mine_' and I mean them, I revel in them. So much has changed, perhaps that fight was the best thing to ever happen because this, this I'm not sure would have ever happened without it. I'm still leaking tears of joy when I hear those words, words I am not sure he meant to say aloud but words he spoke to me, directly to me, "_You are mine, Temperance Brennan, all mine, forever mine and I, I am yours from this day forward, forever yours._"

The tears come unbidden, springing anew from the intensity of his devotion to me, from the physical ministrations, the feelings he evoked, the sheer volume of pleasure he gave me, not just more than I've ever known from any one man, but more than I've ever known from all the men I've ever known. That sounds extreme, true, but it is the truth. Sex with other men was always pleasurable, but it was always only pleasurable. One time with Booth and the bar has been permanently reset, no other man, not even Sully, can compare to what we have. I can't help myself, the tears continue to fall, a sob escapes me, a rasping breath, and Booth, _my Booth_, is suddenly worrying over me.

"Hey. C'mon Bones, baby, what's wrong?" The concern in his voice is so clear but I can't bring myself to look at him with tears running down my face.

"It's nothing Booth," I sniff and laugh a snotty nosed laugh at the same time, really attractive I'm sure. His hand grasps my chin and there's no avoiding those deep, chocolate brown eyes or that puppy-dog look he gives me that melts my resolve. My poor Booth, so worried he's upset me.

"C'mon Bones, you can tell me. W-was it not good?" Christ God Almighty, is he kidding me? On what planet could that not have been good?

"Booth, oh my God no, it-it was unbelievable, better than good it…I don't know how to describe it." breathe Temperance breathe. "Seeley it…it was the best ever, it was just so much, too much, I-I've never felt this much before, or so intensely. I just wasn't ready for it to be this good, so amazingly good." The smile beaming from his face could light up my apartment and I marvel at the man who places so much stock in what I think and say. I realize then what it means to love someone, to really and truly love someone. We put our hearts in their hands, we trust in them completely, and we give them immense power over us. I know now, I _am_ his and he, he _is_ mine, completely.

"Well I'm glad it was good Bones, though you know it will get better."

"Better? You can't be serious."

"No, I am. The more we get to know each other intimately, the more we learn about each other's bodies, the more responsive they'll become…the more attuned to one another." As he's saying this his hand has begun lazily drifting over my skin, his fingers tracing nameless patters where they touch raising a trail of gooseflesh in their wake and sending shivers down my spine. I'm just now starting to calm down from that last incredible session of lovemaking , the intensity of our emotions, the need for release, the passion that lay in every touch, every kiss, every thrust and lick and bite and oh my. I'm already getting wet just thinking about it again, the heat pooling at my core, that tell-tale trickle of moisture threatening my folds, and the familiar feeling of something twitching at my thigh tells me that Booth is well on the way to recovering as well. I have to wonder now if death by orgasm is actually a possibility. If he can recover that quickly and given as I'm already warming to the idea of another go, then it could be possible. Of course I must admit the thought of the two of us doing nothing but coupling until neither of us can move again has its merits. Still, there are things I know we need to talk about, things that we must address unless we want to go through something, a version of this, all over again.

"Booth?" He fixes me with a smoky look and I can tell he's thinking about another round of hot and sweaty lovemaking. I can feel myself shiver at the thought, and I promise myself we're definitely doing that after.

"What is it Bones?" I swallow around the lump in my throat, it's now or never.

"I, I was thinking. Before we…made love, we were talking and I, I was apologizing for calling you a loser." I can feel him tense against me and I rush through the rest of what I need to say. "I never got to actually apologize Booth. I know I shouldn't have trusted his word, and I know you are **not**a loser. You never have been Seeley, _never_. Not in my eyes, and not in Parker's. No one who knows you would ever call you a loser and, and I'm sorry that I didn't handle it the right way. I just, I, I didn't say the right thing in the interrogation room because I was surprised by your reaction and I fell back to what I knew, what I'm good at, which is anthropology, you know, being a squint. I didn't understand then, but I do now." His lips quirk slightly at the word squint, but his eyes are still closed so I can't tell what he's really feeling.

"You do?" Booth's voice is low, soft, and level but it's not until he opens his eyes and looks at me that I get any sense as to the depth of his pain. I only hope he understands what I'm trying to say.

"Yes. Your father and mother, the way they treated you, every day of your young life, the way they made you feel? When I didn't defend you, when I let you think that…anyway that brought it all up again. It tore open old wounds, made them raw again and I know that hurt you. I'm sorry Booth, I'm so sorry I hurt you like that but…"

"But what Bones?" He's not pulling away, not shutting down, he's listening to me. There's that at least.

"But maybe that needed to happen. Old wounds Booth, they don't always heal right and opening them up, bringing things out into the sunlight, it's a good way to heal. Hang onto them and they fester, become septic." I'm still no good at this, this talking about issues, problems. I'm a scientist at heart, logical and reasoning, but with him I'm trying to 'think' with my heart instead of my brain. So far it's worked, my brain got me into trouble, almost cost me my chance of a real relationship with Booth, my heart on the other hand, my heart got me Booth and the best sex I've ever had. I watch him carefully, willing him to understand what I'm doing, why I'm bringing this up again. Time passes, seconds into minutes and we lay there just as we were, his arm still covering me, his leg still over mine, finally he exhales slowly, and when I see his eyes my heart unclenches. The smile is back, the smile in his eyes, the one I hadn't seen in a month, the one I thought I'd nearly driven away forever.

"So tell me Bones, when did you become so insightful?"

"I'm not really. I just have a very, very good teacher."

"You do huh? Anyone I know?"

"I don't know. He's tall and handsome, has a great sense of humor, he's a very attentive lover, and he's smarter than he lets on."

"Smarter? Really?"

"Oh yeah, much smarter, and when it comes to reading people there's no one better."

"Hmm, so what's this wonderful guys name?"

"Lance Sweets" I love to see his smile and I can't resist teasing him a little, even after all we've been through he needs to know that we can still laugh. Especially after all we've been through. I'm not disappointed when Booth grabs me, pulling me atop him while rolling underneath, his fingers dancing along my sides the entire time, tickling me relentlessly until I'm gasping for breath, thrashing about, unable to do more than slap ineffectively at him, tears streaking down my face as I giggle and laugh like a child.

"Care to tell the truth Temperance? Because I can keep doing this all night."

"B-B-Booth! H-His name is Bo-o-o-oth!" He finally relents, his hands coming to rest at my waist, I struggle to regain my composure, my chest burning from laughing so hard when he captures my lips in a deepening kiss that sends my heart racing and takes my breath away all over again. I feel myself melting into his embrace, the heat pooling at my core again, definite signs of life in Booth, when he finally breaks the kiss and I can't help but groan in disappointment. A single look and I know, we're going to finish the talk.

"I love you Bones, my God how I love you. You need to know that."

"I do Booth. I know you love me, and I love you too. Do you believe me?"

"Yes sweetheart, yes I do. I just had to make sure you knew that because what I'm going to say, what I'm going to tell you, it gets kind of hard for me to talk about without disconnecting, ya' know? I, I have to…"

"Compartmentalize, distance yourself, so you can do it. Right?"

"Right."

Booth's eyes sweep over me, until our eyes lock again and I can, what does he say? Oh yeah, I can see the wheels turning. He wants to talk to me, he wants to tell me everything now but he's afraid. Before he was telling me because he wanted to chase me away but now, now he's afraid that I'll become disgusted by him and run. My poor Booth, I have to wonder if love is really worth it. I mean I love him, and yes, he's worth anything to me but for him, how can the hell he's putting himself through be worth it? How can I be worth all of this?

"The first home I was placed in, when I went into foster care, the family was very strict, very authoritarian. It was a traditional household, the father worked a factory job, the mother stayed at home and took care of the house. They had two other children, both boys, both younger than me…" I'm rambling, I know I am. I don't know why, it shouldn't bother me. What happened is all in the past, but talking about it _hurts_. "My foster parents locked me in the trunk of a car for two days when I broke a dish. I was a very clumsy child. They warned me that it would happen but the water was so hot and the soap was so slippery. I still don't think it was fair even though they gave me fair warning. The water was so hot…"

Tears sprang hot from my eyes, and I choked on my own breath until Booth clutched me tightly against his chest. He placed small chaste kisses along the side of my head and whispered sweet blandishments attempting to assuage my pain. He rocked me gently from side to side, traced long circles in my back, stroked my head lovingly until the my tears stopped and my breathing steadied. It wasn't long after that the rocking stopped and as I rested my head upon his chest, head tucked snugly beneath his chin, that I heard him speaking to me.

Booth spoke for quite a while. He told me the stories of his childhood that no one else knows, not even Jared. These were the dark secrets that only Booth and his father would be able to talk about, the things that gnawed at him deep inside. I listened quietly as Booth told me how his father would tie him up with electrical cord and lock him in a closet, a dirty rag shoved into his mouth, as punishment for being a 'smart ass'. I said nothing when he related how his father taught him the valuable lesson of always making sure his shirts were starched and pressed, by holding a steam iron to his chest until the wrinkles disappeared. I remained silent as he told me how his old man once marched him outside in the dead of winter, making him stand in the driveway while wearing nothing but his underwear, and then directed a continuous spray of icy water from a garden hose at Booth's young body. I cried softly as he told me how each drop of water felt like a needle being driven into his skin, how his father kept at it until his teeth stopped chattering and his lips were blue, how he nearly died from pneumonia. Apparently this was his father's idea of just punishment, and Booth's sin was leaving a wet towel on the bathroom floor. Of course he'd been warned what would happen.

All of that I endured with hardly more than a few tears escaping. Though my heart ached for Booth, the child, the innocent, and though inside I was crying in agony with him, I did my best to show nothing and I did it for him. I did it so Booth wouldn't feel as if he had to stop, wouldn't feel as if he was upsetting me. I know him and as strong as he is he can't stand to see the people he loves suffer, and I am one of them, but for him I would have endured far worse tortures. I would have gladly traded places with him. Instead I listen stoically, struggling with the few tears that escape my control. I make a silent vow, as I listen, that one day I would meet Booth's father, and when I did the measure of revenge I would exact on Booth's behalf would leave that man wondering why his God didn't grant him a merciful death. I understood then, why Booth reacted the way he did about my stories in the system and later, travelling abroad. Love was powerful, and dangerous, in its way. We each felt the need to protect the other, a powerful, dangerous, possessive need and I, for one, no longer felt the urge to fight it. He belonged to me, battered and beaten, and as yet unbowed, he was mine and I'll be damned if anyone ever treats him like that again.

"It was the start of my summer vacation, freshman year in high school. Mom had been gone for almost two years, she stopped writing us, stopped sending money, stopped caring. The barbershop was struggling and every spare dime Dad had went into a bottle. I was working two jobs plus my paper route just to make sure we had money for groceries and to help pay for the little luxuries like electricity and water, and I still did most of the work around the house. Bones, I was just fifteen but I felt like I was fifty, my friends were worrying about how they'd afford a new pair of shoes for some dance and I was wondering if we'd have enough money to by lunch on Friday. I was just so tired, ya' know?"

I could feel the fatigue in his voice, I looked up at him for the first time since he'd started and stifled a gasp. He was looking back at me but not at me, through me. His eyes were hollow but filled with incredible pain and sadness, I'd seen this look before, hours before in my office. This frightened me.

"Anyway, there was a dance and I wanted to go. This girl, Eleanor Sandino, she really liked me. She was smart, funny, a real brain…you'd have loved her Bones, she was our class valedictorian and she liked me, _me_."

"I can see why Seeley, I love you and I'm pretty brainy too."

"Nah, you're not just pretty brainy Bones, you're beautiful and brilliant, way smarter and way, way prettier than Eleanor, but Eleanor Sandino was the smartest girl in school and she wanted to go out with me. So the night of the dance I took my money and I bought myself a new pair of shoes, borrowed a buddy's fake ID and my old man's car and picked up Eleanor for the dance. We'd only been there an hour when he found me. He started in right then, in front of everyone, pushing me around, taking his shots and calling me names. For once I actually had it coming, and honestly I didn't care what anyone else thought but when I saw Eleanor looking at me…it was the look in her eyes. There was nothing there but pity Bones, nothing but pity. I guess that was the tipping point for me, that moment when it all changed."

I knew. I knew without asking but I had to ask him now. "What did you do Booth?"

He pulled his arm off my back and turned it toward me, showing me the underside of his forearm. I tentatively pressed my thumb to the flesh and found what I was looking for, the scar was faint, barely noticeable even under close examination and I was sure it's mate on the other arm would be the same. However when I pressed the muscle of his forearm with my thumb and looked carefully I could still see it, just beneath the surface. Lengthwise, a single long straight scar, no hesitation cuts just one long smooth stroke. During my time in the system I'd seen plenty of scars from botched suicide attempts, girls and boys who slashed their wrists not realizing that the most effective way wasn't crossways, but lengthways in line with the blood vessels. Booth had meant to do a neat job of it, and by the length and depth of these scars he should have been dead. It takes everything in my power to not cry out as I turn back to him.

"You tried to kill yourself."

"I would have succeeded if it wasn't for my grandfather. He took me in after the first attempt, helped me get better, helped me find a way to overcome the darkness I felt inside me. He gave me a purpose, taught me to be a better man, taught me that God doesn't give us more than we can handle and I should seek strength in my faith, look to Christ when I'm feeling weak." Booth's eyes finally seemed to focus on mine again, and he smiled sweetly at me, bending just enough to place a small kiss on my forehead. "He'd love you Bones, he really would."

"Your grandfather, is he still alive?" Booth's nod and smiling eyes are all I need. "I would very much like to meet him sometime Booth, to say thank you."

"Thank you?"

"For giving you to me, and for making you the man you are…the man I love." I think to myself, even as I reaffirmed that I would never, ever, belittle Booth's faith again since it was part and parcel to his very real salvation, that I would never again let this man lying beneath me think for one moment that he was anything other than loved or that he deserved anything less than to be loved. I reach up to him then, taking his lips with mine and kissing him deeply, wondering as he opens instantly to me, our tongues sliding over one another in a familiar dance. When we part for air, I can't help but smile at the beautiful face I see. So strong and warm and gentle, and to think I nearly lost any chance at knowing him.

I heard his voice then, thick with fatigue and emotion, husky from the long nights efforts, asking me one last time for an affirmation. "Temperance, are you sure you want this? A life with me?"

"Seeley, my love, I have never been more sure of anything. You are mine, and I am yours. If I believed in fate I would say that we were put here to find one another, to complete each other. Your weaknesses, my strengths; your strengths, my weaknesses. We fit Booth. There are no two more imperfect souls on this planet but together we are a perfect fit."

He says nothing and I'm afraid my florid prose has failed to achieve it's task until the familiar rumble in his chest reassures me. My Booth, my Seeley, is laughing.

"Jeez Bones, a simple 'Yeah, we're good' was enough for me."

Laughing back I slap him hard in a joyous scolding and his chest rumbles anew with laughter. Leaning forward Booth places a chaste kiss on my forehead. "You know, I said a simple 'Yeah, we're good' was enough, but thanks for the long version Bones. It was beautiful."

"New York Times best selling author Booth, you have to expect I'll wax poetic every once in a while. Just don't expect it too often, especially not after we make love."

"Yeah, it's funny how you can barely string two syllables together after you've come a few times." Booth's snort is a welcome sound, my Seeley is back.

"Six is not a few, and at least now I know why they call you a _Special_ Agent."

"Heh, don't you forget it either Bones."

"Well you can always remind me of it in the morning.

Booth chuckles again, the familiar rumbling soothing me he pulls down the throw off the back of the couch and settles it over us, shifting slightly so I would rest comfortably half on him, half against the back of the couch. Exhausted, though my emotions are still running high, I couldn't help that a few tears that leaked out unbidden at this simple sign of his protective nature. A nature, I now knew, that had been forged in pain, tempered in darkness, and sharpened by the cruelty of our world. Still to feel so loved and cared for, to be so selflessly protected by a man so good, I didn't know if my heart would ever grow used to it, or if my brain would ever accept it, but I was resolved to love him for as long as he would let me. My ear pressed against his chest, the gentle beat lulling me into slumber. The last thing I was aware of was the feeling of his lips on the top of my head, and the sound of his voice rumbling, "Good night" as I drifted off to sleep.f

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_A/N: Feedback is always welcome, the more specific the better. Thanks!_

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